


be still my foolish heart (don't ruin this on me)

by connorswhisk



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, ft. me filling the void omgcp has left in my soul, i already miss it so fucking much, i can't believe i actually wrote this???, this is just me being tender and gay and liking medievals aus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorswhisk/pseuds/connorswhisk
Summary: Will Poindexter is the captain of Prince Derek's guard. And he likes it.There's just the small issue of Will being in love with Derek. It's a love doomed for disaster; he's common, Derek's a prince. Not to mention, Derek doesn't love him back, and is set to marry the princess of a neighboring kingdom.But when a plague strikes the city, Will and Derek are sent on a quest to find a cure. And Will suddenly finds himself alone with the boy he's not supposed to be into.
Relationships: Denice "Foxtrot" Ford/Original Female Character(s), Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter, bg zimbits/holsom/charmer/april&march, shardo hinted at
Comments: 22
Kudos: 129





	be still my foolish heart (don't ruin this on me)

**Author's Note:**

> i can't decide if this fic is good or not, but i had fun worldbuilding and writing for it, so hopefully you all enjoy. 
> 
> third quarantine fic, hell yeah
> 
> title taken from almost (sweet music) by hozier

You’d think that, in these lands and in this present day, one would be pretty damn happy to work for the Queen. Decent pay, makes mothers proud, you get a warm bed and pick of the kitchens whenever you like, provided you do your job correctly. Most everyone is friendly, the work isn’t ridiculously taxing, and you’re given the chance to serve what most people like to call the finest royal family the kingdom’s ever seen.

Will likes his job. He’s certainly lucky to have it. He _likes_ it.

Sort of.

When he’d first journeyed into Andover’s inner walls, looking for work almost seven years ago, Will had been just a simple country boy of fifteen years from the port districts, hoping to earn a little more to send home. He’d requested an audience with the Queens, stated his name and all he was worth, said he’d had training from his father with a sword in combat, and knew how to ride, but could learn just about anything if given the chance. Queen Lola had smiled, painted lips quirking up at their corners, and said,

“How would you feel working with someone close to your own age?”

“Your Majesty?”

“My son, Prince Derek. Under Sir Snow's tutelage, we are trying to train some soldiers the same age as my son to become his own personal guard. Would that be something you think you could handle?”

Will stood a little taller. “I can handle anything, my lady.”

Queen Lola clapped her hands together, the sound reverberating throughout the throne room that was at least twice the size of Will’s family's cottage at home, maybe more. “Then it’s settled. I will notify Sir Snow immediately, and you will start tomorrow morning. Smalls will show to your room.”

Smalls was old and wizened, and had one yellow tooth. He’d been the court scribe before River had taken over, but Will wasn’t sure how much he’d actually been able to remember.

Before Smalls could take him anywhere, however, the doors to the throne room burst open and a knight strode in, holding a boy about Will’s age by the shoulder.

The knight bowed low. “Pardon the interruption, your majesties. Suzanne Bittle caught your son nicking from the larder again and asked me to let you know.”

“Get off of me,” the boy, _Derek,_ it must be, muttered, shaking himself free of the knight’s grasp.

Queen Tallulah sighed deeply. “Derek. We’ve talked about this.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t take things from the larder,” Derek complained.“I _live_ here. I’m the _prince._ ”

“You could at least _ask,_ ” Queen Tallulah said.

Queen Lola waved her hand. “We’ll deal with that later. Derek, we’ve found the last member of your guard. This is William Poindexter.”

Will bowed, but he already didn’t like the prince’s attitude.

Derek glanced at him and groaned. “Mom, another one?”

“ _Derek,_ ” Queen Tallulah warned. “Go take him to the bunkhouse with the others.”

Derek groaned again, turned on his heel, and started to leave. “Come on.” Will had had no choice but to follow.

Once inside the guardroom (empty at the time) Derek had looked at Will and said,

“Right, so - I do what I want. Your job as my guard is to stop me from doing stupid things. But most of the time I’m probably not going to listen. I don’t particularly _like_ to be bossed around.”

“ _Figures,”_ Will muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sire.”

“I’ll have you know that if you talk to me that way, I could have you executed. I’m your _prince._ ”

“Of course.”

“Of course, _sire._ ”

Will had resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course, _sire, my liege, my prince, the light of the heavens, gift from the gods, etcetera, etcetera._ ”

“That’s more like it.”

Will had huffed and Derek had grinned.

“Try not to grovel too much when you see me,” he’d said, and left, leaving Will wondering what the hell he had just gotten himself into.

He’d gotten to know the other boys, Christopher and Adam and Justin, and had done his job well, or as well as he could with the prince ordering him around. When he’d asked Adam why he didn’t find Derek insufferable, Adam had shrugged and told him,

“He can be a brat, but he’s not an asshole. Honestly, he’s pretty fun.”

Will had disagreed.

For years he’d suffered through Derek’s taunts, through his snarky comebacks and his refusal to follow directions, traveling with him all throughout the country, fighting alongside him against bandits, and writing home to say that all was well, all was well.

And it was. It is. Things got better. After a while, the teasing became more playful, less scornful. There were jokes cracked and smiles returned. And it was better, it was better than Will had ever thought it could be. It didn’t change, it couldn’t. Until -

Until when they were seventeen, Derek had stumbled into his quarters later than usual on Will and Chris’s watch, back from a night out on the tavern that had clearly gone in a different direction, if the lipstick stains on his collar were any indication, and Will and Caitlin and Chris had helped him get into bed without waking his mothers, and Derek had looked at Will, eyes hooded with ale, clothes askew, hair a mess, neck covered in bruises and had said -

“Your eyes look like suns, Dexy. Or coins, or something...I mean, they’re _radiant.” -_

before promptly passing out, and Will’s breath had caught in his throat and he’d realized,

_Oh, I’m in worse trouble than I even thought._

But Derek has to marry. Derek has to marry, because his parents are getting older, and there has to be someone for the Nurse legacy to carry on through, and Derek needs to produce an heir, for safety, for assurance, and Derek needs a _wife._

Will will have to watch him marry, watch him be crowned king, and soon he probably won’t have _time_ for the captain of his royal guard anymore.

It makes him more sad than he has the right to be.

“You’ve heard the news, right?!?” Chris asks, bursting into the armory, hyper as always. Will looks up from polishing his sword. Adam and Justin are tossing an old helmet back and forth across the room and completely neglecting their duties of polishing Derek’s armor, as usual.

“What’s the news?” Will asks, looking back down at his sword. There’s this one spot of grime that just refuses to come _off -_

“There’s a delegation set to come next week from Samwell. And you know what Samwell has?”

“What does Samwell have?” Will asks, feigning interest. Come _on_ spot.

“A _princess,_ ” Chris proclaims, and Will promptly drops his sword.

A loud, metallic clang from behind him tells him that he isn’t the only one who’s surprised.

“Wait, seriously?” Justin asks. He picks up the helmet. “No, you’re not joking?”

Chris shakes his head. “Caitlin told me about it. She said she was serving Derek tea when Queen Tallulah came in and told him all about it.”

Adam pretends to wipe away a tear. “Our little Nursey, all grown up.”

“I know, right?” Chris turns to Will. “What do you think, Will?”

Will looks up. “Well, I - “ He looks down at the sword in his lap. “I think that...I just hope she’s good for him, that’s all.”

Justin whistles, long and low from behind him. “Ahhh, he’s still pining.”

Will wheels around, glares at him. “I don’t _pine._ I _never_ pine!”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Adam says. “Go on, keep acting like you’re not in love with him. You keep up that pretend annoyance, Dex, but you’re not as slick as you think. We’ve all seen you.”

“ _No, you haven’t,_ ” Will hisses. “ _And you never will._ ”

Justin shrugs. “Ok, dude. So you’re not in love with him. But we’ll see how you take it when Princess Denice comes to call next week.”

Will’s about to bite back a retort when a voice from the doorway says, “I take it you’ve heard the news, then.”

Will stands and bows with the others. “My lord.”

“Oh, Christ,” Derek says, grinning. “Stop fucking bowing, you know I hate it.”

They do know, but they do it anyway.

“So...the princess?” Chris asks.

Derek’s grin fades. “Yeah, she’s coming next week. My parents have been hoping to form an alliance with Samwell for a while now, and Mama reckons this is the perfect opportunity now that Princess Denice is of age.”

“And...how do _you_ feel about that?” Adam inquires.

Derek sighs. “Well, it had to come eventually, didn’t it? Here’s hoping she’s nice.”

“Hear, hear,” Adam and Justin chorus.

“Poindexter, you’re quiet.” Will glances up. “What do you think?”

“I...I think that you will be happy with the princess. Shruti’s met her, her mother used to work for her father or something. She says she’s very charming.”

Derek’s eyes soften. There’s a note of melancholy in them that Will isn’t sure how to decipher. “Right. Good.” He swallows. Will tracks the movement of his throat bobbing.

“Well, boys,” he says, turning for the door. “It’s time for training.”

Will is the last to walk out of the armory. He allows himself ten seconds to stare at the floor and think about everything. And then he leaves.

If he’s a little rougher in training today, if he’s a little heavier with the sword and a little fiercer with the mace, well, hopefully the others just chock it up to his normal rigidness.

“ _Lord,_ I hope that the princess isn’t a picky eater.” Will is in the kitchens on his day off, keeping Eric company. Eric and his mother are pretty stressed with only one day to go until the Samwell delegation arrives, and Will had offered to help, but Eric’s put a ban on him touching anything in the kitchen since the Glazed Ham Incident. Will doesn’t like to talk about it.

“She’s a princess,” Will says. “It’s more than likely.”

Eric sighs, probably kneading the blob of dough in front of him with a little more force than strictly necessary. “I know. Now I expect I’ll have to memorize _her_ food preferences as well as both the Queens’s and the Prince’s. You know, if she’s going to be living here from now on.”

Will swallows. “Right.”

Eric looks at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Dex. I know this is difficult for you.”

Will groans, covering his face with his hands. “ _Why_ does everyone think I’m in love with him?!”

Suzanne makes a clucking noise from across the kitchen. “Oh, honey, bless your heart.”

“ _Mama,_ ” Eric snaps. “Don’t _eavesdrop._ ” He turns back to Will. “But _bless your heart._ ”

“Mmf,” Will responds from behind his fingers. His face feels like it’s on fire. _Stupid Crown Prince making him feel stupid feelings._

“Eric,” a kitchen boy pipes up. “The milk spilled again.”

Eric turns exasperatedly, whips the dish towel off his shoulder. “Oh, _Lord,_ can’t y’all keep a single pail of milk upright?” He follows the boy around the corner, grumbling under his breath.

Will leans back against the wall. The day is hot, made even hotter by the fires roaring in the kitchen. He undoes the first few strings of his tunic, lets it fly a little looser. His face is still flushed, and he isn’t sure if it’s the heat or something else.

_Really,_ why everyone thinks that -

“Um. Hi?”

There’s a dude standing at the door. Will vaguely recognizes him, feels like he’s seen him in town now and again.

“...Hi?” he says back.

Dude clears his throat. “I’m Jack? Zimmermann?”

Will blinks. “Oh, you’re the - you’re Bad Bob’s son.”

Jack winces a little. “Yeah, I...is Bittle here?”

“He’s in the larder, he should be back in a sec,” Will says. What the hell does _Jack Zimmermann_ want with _Eric?_

A somewhat awkward silence descends. Will clears his throat.

“So, you captain the night watch, right?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “I mean, I - I used to be a soldier, but - “

“Right, yeah,” Will says quickly. Everyone knows about Sir Zimmermann’s son’s big breakdown, how he used to be a fighter in Samwell before cracking under the pressure and moving to Andover. “Sorry, man.”

Jack grimaces. “Well, there’s nothing you could’ve done about it, eh?” He shuffles, clears his throat. “Aren’t you Poindexter?”

“Yeah.”

“So you work with Adam and Justin,” he says.

“Yeah. For his Highness.” Will rolls his eyes.

Jack smirks. “Don’t like him?”

“No. I mean, yeah, but - he’s the prince, you know?”

“Sure.”

More silence, and then Will says, “But - “

“God in Heaven, those boys,” Eric says, coming back around the corner. “If they spill _one more bucket of milk, I’ll_ \- Jack!”

Eric turns a violent shade of pink, and a lot of things start to click into place for Will.

“What - What are you doing here?” Eric asks breathlessly, trying to nonchalantly wipe his flour-covered hands on his apron.

Jack shrugs. “Thought you might like some help down here. I don’t have to be anywhere for a couple of hours.”

“Oh, well,” Eric stutters. “Well, _sure!_ Here, you can come over here, and - do you know how to dice onions? - great, so if you could do that that would be great, Jack, really _great._ ”

Jack smiles. “No problem.”

From the way they’re looking at each other, Will gets the impression he’s been forgotten about. Thankfully, he’s saved by Suzanne clearing her throat.

“If you boys are done canoodling over there, I have some pies that still need making, Dicky.”

“Dicky?” Jack asks, grinning.

“It’s nothing,” Eric tells him, blushing again. “And Mama, what did I say about eavesdropping? - Jack, sweetie, you can go ahead - Yes, Mama I’m comin’!”

Will smirks. “Oh, so when _he_ asks to help, you give him an onion to chop, no problem, but when _I_ ask to help - “

“You shut your mouth, William J. Poindexter, don’t think I’ve forgotten the Ham.”

Will just laughs, grabs an apple from the basket on the counter, and walks out the door.

Only to run right into Derek.

Oooooooof _course._

Will swallows his mouthful of apple. “Sorry, my lord.”

Derek shrugs. “It’s chill. What were you doing in the kitchen? It must be sweltering in there.”

“I was just seeing if the Bittles needed any assistance with the cooking,” Will answers, trying not to look at Derek’s arms. His sleeves are rolled up and it’s really distracting. “And it was. Sweltering, that is.”

“I can see that,” Derek says humorously, raising his eyebrows and nodding towards Will’s open shirt.

_Shit._

Will clears his throat, fumbles for the tunic strings. “Right, yes, well, I was just on my way to - “

“Want to come on a walk with me? Just around the gardens.”

Will means to say no. He’s got chores to do, armor to polish, stables to muck out. He’s busy, he doesn’t really have _time_ to go for a walk, and especially not with the bloody _prince,_ who shouldn’t even be inviting him, because they’re not _friends_ or anything, they’ve skirted the line between _friends_ and _begrudgingly resigned to being around each other_ for _years,_ and this isn’t something they _do,_ this isn’t something _Derek_ does - 

“If you’ll have me, sire,” he says instead, which just sounds fucking _romantic, ugh._

Derek just laughs. “Come on, Poindexter, take the stick out of your ass.”

Will scowls. There’s the Crown Prince he’s used to.

The castle gardens are truly one of the best things about the kingdom. They’re vast, lush, populated with willow trees, long fronds trailing down like wisps of smoke, dancing on the breeze. There’s flowers, lots of them, filling the air with the scent of spring and good decisions, and there’s shade, and a creek, and a sense of _fullness._

But in all the seven years he’s known him, Derek has never invited Will to the gardens with him, and only him.

The whole thing feels almost _forbidden._ Like they shouldn’t be doing it. It’s _thrilling._

_It’s just a walk in the garden, Poindexter, get your head out of the clouds._

“You know, this is where my Mom first wooed my Mama,” Derek says, stopping underneath the shade of a willow to gaze around at all the open space.

“I didn’t know,” Will replies, but it makes sense. Seems the perfect atmosphere for a date, a date with intentions to lead somewhere else.

Derek snorts. “Yeah, well, trust Mom to go all textbook romantic on everything. It’s a little corny, don’t you think?”

Does he think? He thinks it’s rather nice, actually...

“I think it’s an adequate way to court someone,” Will says.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Stop fucking talking like that. You always talk like my tutors.”

Will scowls, feels like being a little daring. “Fuck your tutors.”

Derek looks at him, grinning with surprise. “Yeah. _Exactly._ Fuck my tutors, dude.”

“That explains the stupidity.”

“ _Haha,_ Will.”

_Jesus,_ something about Derek calling him Will...it’s too _much._

Derek continues walking, at a faster pace than before. “My parents didn’t think they’d be able to get married. Mama was a noblewoman, but she wasn’t of _royal_ blood. At least, they didn’t think so at first, but then they did some research and it turns out Mama’s the second cousin of some thane of Tenfalls. Apparently, that was enough for Grandfather, and he let them marry.”

“I actually _did_ know all that,” Will says. “I’m not dumb.”

“You sure about that?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, _my lord._ ”

Will laughs, and Derek laughs with him, and so many things are happening that _don’t,_ not usually, but Will’s not complaining.

Derek stops laughing when they reach a lily bush, leaves spotted with the beautiful white petals. Will watches as Derek plucks a flower carefully, holds it up so that the rays of the late afternoon sun filter through it.

“Mama likes to go on and on about the lily Mom picked for her.”

Why Derek keeps returning to the topic of his parents’s courtship, Will doesn’t know.

“It’s a pretty flower,” Will remarks.

“It is,” Derek muses. He looks at Will through narrowed eyes, suddenly, sharply, analytically. “Mom took the flower,” he says. “And she put it in Mama’s hair,” he tucks the lily behind Will’s ear, and Will forgets his own name. “And now the flower is in a frame above their bed.”

Derek’s fingers still linger on Will’s cheek. He’s staring at Will intently, right into his eyes, and Will might be making a quip about soul-searching if he didn’t feel so exposed, so _raw._

Derek is not supposed to do things like this, not to soldiers, not to lowly _servants._ Not to _Will._

“What would you do,” Derek murmurs. “If you were in love, but couldn’t be with the person? Would you wait for them? Or would you let them slip away?”

Will can feel his heart hammering out of his chest. “I - I - “

Derek lets his hand fall away from Will’s cheek slowly, looks away as if in a trance. And then he suddenly seems to collect himself.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, not meeting Will’s eyes. “I was just thinking about - about the princess.”

“Right,” Will gets out, heart plummeting to his stomach. “Of course.”

“I should - I should go, I need to - I need to take a _bath,_ ” he says, and then he’s gone.

Will takes the lily in his hand, stares at the white petals with the hive of purple coursing out from the center. He gently tucks it into his pocket, means to press it into a journal later.

_What. The fuck. Was that._

“What’s that, Dex?” Chris asks from his bunk when Will gets back to the room late, having spent another few hours in the garden, contemplating everything and nothing at all.

“Nothing,” Will mutters. “Just a flower.”

“It’s pretty.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Will finds a book in his drawer and carefully places the lily between its pages. He sinks into his bunk, stares at the bottom of Chris’s mattress, millions of things going through his head at once.

“It’ll be dinnertime, soon,” Chris says.

“Mmhmm.”

“I wonder what Princess Denice likes to eat?”

And this remark is the thing that finally causes Will to snap out of it.

_Whatever you thought that was, it wasn’t,_ he tells himself. _It was just a prince and his silly games. He doesn’t love you, and even if he did, what would come out of it? He’s a royal, you’re a commoner. Nothing._

“Where are Adam and Justin?” he asks, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and standing.

“Probably in a broom cupboard somewhere,” Chris says cheerily. “Do you want me to go find them?”

“No, it’s fine,” Will says. “The dinner bell summons them like nothing else.”

“True. Wanna play a quick round of cards first?”

Will pushes the thoughts out of his head completely.

Well, he _tries_ to.

At dinner, the Prince ignores him. He laughs loudly with the others, claps Adam on the back and listens intently to all of Chris’s animated stories, but the most attention he gives Will is when he asks him to pass the rolls, one time, and even then he won’t look him in the eyes. The others don’t even notice.

Will shouldn’t care, but he does.

Afterwards, Caitlin approaches Will in the corridor. It’s supposed to be Adam and Justin’s shift first thing. Will was planning on taking a nap, so he’s naturally a little bit irked when Caitlin pulls him behind a corner.

“What?” he asks, annoyed. “What do you want, Farmer?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Don’t bullshit me, Poindexter. What happened with the Prince today?”

Will crosses his arms. “What are you talking about? Nothing happened with him. I didn’t - _nothing_ happened.”

“Yeah, _right,_ ” Caitlin says. “You didn’t talk to him at all at dinner, and he didn’t say anything to you, either. I know you guys don’t always get along, but you can carry a conversation with each other. And Derek was really distant when I drew his bath earlier. I asked him what was up and he just mumbled something about being in the gardens with you, and then he wouldn’t say anything else.”

Will huffs. “We just went for a walk, that’s all.”

“Will, come on. What really happened?”

Will shrugs. “I don’t know, we - we were walking, and then we were talking about the Princess, and...then he just left.”

Caitlin is actually one of the only people Will tells stuff. She’s good at giving advice, and good at not spilling anyone’s secrets to anyone else. But Will doesn’t want to tell her about everything with the flower. It’s too...too _personal._ Too exclusive to just him and Derek _._

“How are you feeling?” Caitlin asks. “About the Princess, I mean?”

Will groans. “Can we please not talk about it? I’m so sick of people asking me that question.”

Caitlin sighs. “Well, maybe he was just dehydrated or something.” She levels Will with a protective glare. “But don’t do anything stupid, ok?”

Will nods, but he isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to keep that promise, not when Derek is tucking flowers behind his ears and talking about marriage and courtship and _noble birth._

The next morning is pale, and it dawns bright and cold. Will wakes up earlier than the others as usual, does his routine amount of pushups and sit ups on the floor, and heads off to grab something for breakfast.

He determinedly tries to push the thought of Princess Denice out of his mind, which proves hard to do, because all of the servants are out hanging banners and streamers and flower garlands fucking _everywhere_ for her arrival.

“Wicky!” Will calls towards the door. “What time is she set to arrive?”

“Sometime after lunch!” Wicks answers, fixing a daisy chain on Ollie’s head. “How are you holding up?”

“ _Fine!_ Why does everyone think otherwise?”

_Ugh,_ it’s going to be a long day. After grabbing breakfast and enduring more awkward flirting between Eric and Jack, Will comes to the conclusion that what he really needs, what he _desperately_ needs, is to blow off some steam.

He’s in the stables, preparing his horse, Simon, for a ride, when Derek appears.

“My lord,” Will greets, fastening the bridle and trying to look anywhere but at the Prince.

“It’s lunchtime,” Derek remarks. “Aren’t you coming to the dining hall?”

“I ate early.”

“Oh.” He hears Derek clear his throat. “We’re ok, right?”

Will swallows. “Of course we are, why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know, I just...you can talk to me about stuff, Will. I want you to know that.”

Will looks at him. “What are we?” he asks.

Derek blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Will says. “Am I just your guard? Or am I your friend?”

Derek’s brows furrow. “Well, I would hope we’re friends, seeing as we’ve known each other for so long.”

“Ok,” Will says quietly. “I just wanted to know.”

“But we’re ok, right?” Derek asks, and he sounds nervous.

Will smiles. “Yeah. We’re ok.”

“Can I ride with you?”

Will raises his eyebrows. “What about lunch?”

“Not hungry.”

“Shouldn’t you go back and start getting ready for the Princess?”

“Yeah,” Derek sighs. “I guess I should.”

“Hey,” Will says. “I’m sure she’s great.”

Derek looks up at him, gives him a small smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, dude.”

“No problem.”

Will watches his retreating form and does his best to ignore the pang in his chest.

When Will gets back the sun is shining high and bright in the sky, and he’s running a little late.

“Where have _you_ been?” Justin asks when he walks into the bunkroom, stripping himself and changing into fresher clothes.

“I went riding,” Will says, splashing his face with water from the basin on the dresser-top.

“Well, you took a while,” Justin replies, standing next to Will and scrubbing at a smudge of dirt on his nose. “Holtzy, help me get this off.”

Adam strides over, grabs a cloth and starts attacking Justin’s face with it. “Yeah, you _were_ gone for a bit, dude. We were worried you’d run away, or something.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Will says, lacing on his armor. “And I’m here now, so fuck off.”

“Sure thing,” Adam says absentmindedly. He leans over and kisses Justin’s cheek. “Gone.”

“Thanks, babe,” Justin says, practically looking at Adam with hearts in his eyes, and Will forces himself to look away before he gets too envious.

Not that he’s -

Oh, who is he kidding anymore.

“Guys,” Chris says, walking in hand in hand with Caitlin. “If you don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late.”

“Right,” Will says, trying to block out the roaring in his ears. He swallows. “Let’s go.”

The throne room is usually clean, but today it’s spotless. The sun shines through the stained glass windows, causing patterns of colorful shapes to dance around on the floor that’s so polished and shiny you can see your reflection in it. There’s a light breeze outside. Will can tell from the way the shadows of the elm branches are swaying lazily.

Will stands with the rest of the Prince’s Guard, to the right of his throne where he sits to the side of his parents. Adam and Justin are fooling around with each other like always while they wait. Chris is making googly-eyes at Caitlin, who’s standing across the hall with the rest of the serving staff. Will does his best to stand tall, keep up appearances as the stoic captain, but when he glances over and catches Derek’s eye, he can’t help but give a small smile. Derek smiles back, and for just a moment, Will forgets himself.

Sir St. Martin steps forward from where the knights are standing then, and says, “Announcing King Roland Ford of Samwell, and his daughter, the Princess Denice Ford!”

Derek’s gaze snaps to the door, smile melting off his face, and Will remembers, straightens himself, and tries not to clench his jaw too tightly.

Here’s the issue: the Princess is really pretty, and Will just knows Derek’s going to fall in love with her anyway, after all. She’s short, dark of both hair and skin, with an elegant posture and a graceful walk. She’s wearing a brilliant dress the color of the sea when the sunlight hits it, and her eyes are trained straight ahead of her, giving no indication of even noticing that everyone is watching her.

Will sneaks a glance at Derek. He’s staring at the Princess. He swallows.

Will wrenches his eyes away, bowing low with the rest of the hall.

“Lola! Tallulah!” King Roland booms, a stout man with more hair on his face than on his head.

“Roland, my old friend,” Queen Tallulah greets. “So wonderful to have you here.”

“And under such lovely circumstances, too!” Roland grins, pulling her into a hug before moving to Lola. Princess Denice is standing silently behind him, the only person attending to her a handmaiden in a simple frock. Behind them stand a line of Samwell’s knights and soldiers. One in particular, with blonde hair and scheming eyes, is scanning the room with a raised eyebrow, the picture of self-obsessed superiority. Will detests him instantly.

“My daughter, Denice,” Roland introduces with a wave of his hand. The Princess bows politely.

Derek steps forward and bends to kiss her hand. “It is an honor to meet you, Princess.”

The Princess nods, but doesn’t smile. “I feel the same way, my lord.”

Derek takes her hand and leads her to stand at his side, but neither of them look particularly enthused. Derek keeps glancing over at Will, and then looking away again. Will doesn’t know what to make of it.

“We are delighted to welcome the glorious royal family of Samwell into the kingdom of Andover,” Tallulah says, addressing the whole hall now. “We hope that the union that is to come between our two families will form an alliance lasting for as long as time will allow. The marriage between my son, Derek, and Princess Denice will provide us with heirs to each throne, and will join these two kingdoms together in harmony.”

Will joins in with the applause, though it sounds false to his ears, like he doesn’t mean it.

He supposes he doesn’t.

The crowd disperses, off to complete the finishing touches on having everything ready for the feast. Will stays behind with the others, awaiting orders. The Princess is talking to Shruti, the first smile Will has ever seen on her gracing her face.

“My lady, this is my personal guard,” Derek says, once she’s done catching up. “Birkholtz, Oluransi, Chow, and Captain Poindexter.”

They all bow in turn. Will does his best to keep a poker face, to not look anywhere but at attention.

“Sire, what would you like us to do?” he asks.

“Um,” Derek says elegantly. “You’re all dismissed. Except for Chris, you can accompany us while we walk in,” he swallows, “in the gardens.”

Will feels more hurt by that than he has the right to be.

“Yes, sir,” Chris says, joining them.

The rest of them bow and leave to their usual duties.

“She’s pretty,” Justin says later as he works on restringing a bow. “But Derek didn’t look like he was into her, did he?”

“Well, you’ve got to cut him some slack,” Adam says. “They’ve only just met. Though, come to think of it, she didn’t seem like she was into him, either.”

“Yeah, not really. God, imagine having to marry someone you didn’t love.”

“That would be so uncool.”

“So _totally_ uncool.”

Will accidentally pulls the needle on the socks he’s darning too hard. The thread snaps.

“Shit, sorry, Dex,” Justin says apologetically. “We’ll shut up, if you want.”

Will coughs. “It’s fine, I don’t care.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Bullshit. It’s ok, we’ll just change the subject. Hey, did you hear about that new disease going around?”

“Shit,” Justin says. “Really?”

“Yeah, in the lower city. Jonathan was telling me about it the other day. He says not enough people have it yet for it to be seen as a real issue, but his mom’s swamped with trying to find a cure. Apparently, it’s really contagious.”

Justin whistles low. “Well, that’s just what we need right now.”

“Is it just in the lower town?” Will asks.

“I think so,” Adam says. “But it’s only a matter of time, right?”

“Well,” Will says, turning back to his socks. “Let’s hope it doesn't get to that point.”

It’s almost dinnertime when Chris finally gets back.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Justin asks as Chris changes into his more casual attire.

Chris grimaces. “To be honest? It was really dead the whole time. And then it was awkward. Dude, I don’t think they’re gonna like being married to each other.”

“What, you think they don’t like each other?”

“Well, no, not exactly. They were getting along _fine,_ I just...I sorta think they’d both rather be friends, instead of... _you know._ ”

“Yeah.”

Will feels a little happy at the news. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows that the marriage is inevitable, and he doesn’t want Derek to be miserable, but all the same, he gets a jolt in his stomach as he hears Chris speak.

Dinner is a pretty joyous occasion. The Bittles have done an excellent job with the feast (as usual), and Lukas, the minstrel, and Shitty, the court fool, provide entertainment to crowds of raucous laughter (Will doesn’t remember why they call him Shitty. It was a long time ago that someone came up with the nickname. Hell, it might’ve been Shitty himself who did. The Queens and older advisors still call him _Byron,_ but it’s honestly pretty easy to forget the guy has an actual name.).

But after having to watch Derek and the Princess sit together, and having to overhear loud conversation from the King and Queens about the upcoming betrothal, Will decides he needs some air.

He’s almost to the entrance to the closest courtyard when a serving girl making her way to the dining hall drops her tray with a crash.

“ _Shit,_ ” she swears, crouching down to pick it up. There’s wine pooling onto the floor, spreading across the cobblestones.Will jogs over to her, hands her the mostly empty pitcher.

“Thanks,” she says breathily, picking up the goblets and standing. “Sorry. My hands must be sweaty or something.”

“It’s no problem,” Will says. “You’re Princess Denice’s handmaiden, right?”

“Yeah, Guinevere. You can call me Gwen, though. Everyone does.”

“Will Poindexter.” Will eyes the front of her dress, which is splattered red with wine. “Uh, you’ve got...”

Gwen looks down. “Oh, _damn._ ”

“Here, I can take you back to my quarters and help you clean it out, if you like.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not trying to flirt with me, are you? I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t really... _like guys._ ” She flushes.

“Oh, God, no,” Will exclaims, feeling his ears heat up. “No, I just - I honestly meant just to clean you up. Seriously.”

“Ok.” Gwen looks embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Will says. “I don’t like girls, anyway.”

She laughs. “Well, there you go.”

“Here, follow me,” Will says.

Gwen groans. “Ugh, but the _floor -_ “

“Someone else will get it.”

She follows him.

“So,” he says as she does her best to stop the stain from setting. “What’s it like to work for the Princess?”

He’s totally just asking because he’s interested. Not because he has a grudge against the Princess that he knows is completely unfair.

Gwen’s face softens, slipping into an expression that looks weirdly familiar to Will. “Oh, well, she’s _great_. I mean, absolutely fantastic. I love working for her. I think I’ve been in her service for...God, eight years, I think. She’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met. And very understanding of the servants, even if we’re common and she’s royal.”

“Of course,” Will says. Jesus, there really is _nothing_ wrong with Denice Ford.

“Well, what about you?” Gwen inquires. “What’s Prince Derek like?”

Will’s jaw clenches. “He’s...he’s a lot like your Princess, truthfully. He’s nice to us, he’s never been cruel. Well, he’s been a bit _annoying,_ but that isn’t quite the same thing.” Gwen laughs. “But...I’ve been in his guard for a long time, and - and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Gwen fixes him with a look. Her wine-sodden cloth lies abandoned on the dresser, her dress still stained despite her best efforts, and she’s looking at Will in a way he can’t really comprehend.

“Your Prince,” she asks slowly. “Would you die for him?”

“Of course,” Will says automatically. It’s his _job_ to be willing to die for Derek.

“You’d do anything for him?”

Will exhales. “I think I would.”

“Is he the first thing on your mind when you wake up in the morning? The last thought you have before you fall asleep at night?”

Will stares at her. “What - “

Gwen continues, almost desperately, words coming out in a rush of sound. “Would you be incomplete without him? Would your world carry any meaning at _all_ if he wasn’t there? Would - “ She chokes off, finishes in a whisper. “Would you be able to _live_ without him in your life?”

Will wouldn’t be able to stop staring if he tried. His heart is _pounding_ out of his chest, from the shock, from the exhilaration of it all, from the _weight_ of those words. “I...no, I think - I - _no._ I need him - I - I _need_ him.”

Gwen smiles sadly. “We’re the same,” she says, and it sounds like a death sentence.

Will swallows the lump in his throat. “How did you know?”

“Because,” she says dully. “I have the same problem. I know the signs.”

“You love her?”

“Yes.”

Will puts his face in his hands, forces the tears away. “Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do?”

Gwen shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

Will looks at her, and he finally knows how it feels to be _understood._ Because he and Gwen are in the same predicament, and they’ve got no way out. It’s either be heartbroken or nothing at all.

He stands, clears his throat. “The feast is almost over. Your lady will be wondering where you are.”

Gwen rises to her feet. “This dress is _ruined,_ ” she says disdainfully.

“Visit the court physician,” Will advises. “She’s got herbs for everything. She’ll have something to get the stain out. And here - “ He hands her a jacket hanging on the back of his chair, one he never really wears anyway. “ - You can put this on for now.”

Gwen looks at him, surprised. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. And Gwen?” She turns, hand on the door handle. 

“Yeah?”

“...I’m sorry.”

She gives him that same melancholy smile as before.

“Me too.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“Eric, I can tell that something’s up. You’re making The Face,” Will says.

Eric scowls. “Oh, shut it. It’s nothing.” Will watches as he slams a pie tin on the counter much more forcefully than necessary.

“That’s not nothing,” Will remarks. “Come on. Was it something with Jack? Do you need me to beat him up?”

Eric snorts. “You wouldn’t last against Jack.”

“Wanna bet?”

“No. And anyway, it _was_ something with Jack, but it wasn’t his fault.”

Will huffs. “Then what _was_ it?”

Eric sighs. “Not in here, Mama might be listening. Come on.” He leads Will into the larder, shooing the few kitchen boys in it out before shutting the door.

“Ok,” he says, facing Will. “Do you know who Kent Parson is?”

Will shrugs. “Am I supposed to?”

Eric rolls his eyes. “ _No,_ of course not, I was just wondering. He’s one of the knights of Samwell. You know, the blonde one with the ‘I’m-better-than-all-you-peasants’ expression?”

Will knows exactly who he’s talking about. “Oh. _Him._ ”

“ _Right._ Anyway, when Jack lived in Samwell he and Parson were... _close friends._ Both great soldiers, expected to become Captains of the Royal Guard together some day. But then...Jack had his breakdown, and Parson got knighted and he didn’t.”

“Ok,” Will says. He knows about Jack. “But what about Parson?”

Eric grits his teeth. “I accidentally overheard him last night, talking to Jack. Tellin’ him he missed him and all. But then he started badmouthing Andover, and when Jack told him to cut it out, he - he said some truly _awful_ things to Jack. And Jack caught me in the hall, and I haven’t talked to him since.”

Will whistles low. “Ok. Well, it’s only been a couple of hours. Why don’t you go find him?”

“Because,” Eric whines. “He probably doesn’t want to see me. I was _eavesdropping._ ”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he _hates_ you. Come on, Bits, communication is key in any relationship.”

Eric flushes. “We’re not in a _relationship._ ”

“Yet.”

“Shut it, you. Come on, I’ve got pies to bake.”

Will follows him out back into the kitchen. He’s still got an hour or so until he’s expected again at the training yard, and he’d be perfectly happy to spend it watching Eric baking.

The universe apparently has other plans for him, though.

“Hey, Will,” Caitlin greets. She’s out of breath, and looks like she’s in a hurry. “Hi, Eric.”

“Hey, Farmer, how’s it going?” Eric asks.

“I've been better. Will, listen, can you do something for me? Derek asked me to fetch Princess Denice for him so they could go riding, but I just got a letter from my mom saying my dad’s real sick. I need to go home and check on him, can you get the Princess for him? Also, tell him why I left. Thanks, you’re the best.”

She leaves without Will even having said anything.

“Well, guess I’ll go do that, then.” He pushes himself off the wall.

  
  
Eric bites his lip, troubled-looking. “I hope her dad’s alright.”

Will remembers what Adam had said about a new sickness in the lower town. He swallows the bile that rushes up in his throat.

“I’m sure Madam Hopper will figure something out.”

On the way to the Princess’s chambers, Will spots Jack, headed for the kitchens with a determined look on his face.

“Talk to Eric,” he calls after him, and Jack nods.

When Will knocks on the Princess’s door, a familiar voice calls, “One moment!”

A few moments later, Gwen opens the door. She looks harried, like she’s been in a rush.Her hair is tangled. Will politely averts his eyes from the bruise on her neck.

“Hi, Will,” she says. “Did you need something?”

“The Prince would like the Princess to accompany him for a ride.”

“Quit talking so _formal._ ” Will grimaces. “Come on,” Gwen says, opening the door further.

When Will walks in, the Princess is lacing on a pair of riding boots. He bows low.

“Poindexter,” she says, “You’re the one Gwen told me about.”

“Told you about, my lady?”

“Yes,” she says. “About your conversation last night.” She hesitates, briefly, straightens the collar of her shirt, and says, “I just want you to know, William, that I have no romantic feelings for Prince Derek, nor do I plan to have any. And I highly suspect he feels the same. Just know that, even if we marry, it isn’t genuine. None of it.”

Will swallows thickly. Damn it, why does he feel like _crying?_ “Thank you, my lady. That’s all well and good for you and Gwen, but as for me and Derek...” He takes a breath. “There’s nothing there. Purely my feelings alone, nothing reciprocated.”

It hurts a lot more than he thought it would to say it out loud.

Gwen gives him a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the Princess says. “I hope you find happiness.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Please, call me Denice. The Prince wants me to ride with him? Why didn’t he send his handmaiden?”

“He would have normally,” Will answers. “But she’s dealing with some personal matters at home, and asked me to deliver the message.”

“Well, good thing I’m already dressed for the occasion.” Denice gestures, grinning, to her pants.

“Well, let’s go the stables. Gwen, dearest, are you coming?”

“No, I think I’ll stay here,” Gwen says hoarsely. “Get a bite to eat.”

Denice frowns. “Are you feeling alright?”

Gwen nods. “Yes. Perfect. Just - ” She coughs. “I’m a little - “ Another cough, dry, hacking. “ _Allergies,_ ” she wheezes.

Denice presses her hand to Gwen’s forehead. “You’re burning up. Maybe you should go see the physician.”

Gwen shakes her head. “No, I’m fine, really.”

“Gwen,” Will says warningly. “I think the Princess is right. See Madam Hopper.”

Gwen nods. Will _really_ hopes that there’s a cure for whatever’s going around.

“We’ve found a cure,” Jonathan announces in court the next day, while his mother is busy with the dying patients. “But it’s going to be very difficult to get.”

Caitlin hasn’t come back to the castle, so Chris has been taking over her duties as handmaiden. Gwen is one of many ailing in a quarantine house in the lower town, a victim of the plague, the Spring Queen’s Revenge, as Madam Hopper has named it, that has quickly but surely taken the kingdom by storm.

“What must be done?” Queen Lola asks. It’s rare for her voice to ever get as stern, as serious as it sounds now. “We’ll do it, we must.”

Jonathan wrings his hands nervously, swallows thickly. “We need a draught made from a very special type of flower, called the Clytemnestra flower. It’s only found in certain places, but no one knows where.”

“Then how are we expected to _find it,_ then?” Queen Tallulah all but snarls.

Jonathan winces. “I - I actually did a lot of research in the library on this, and - Shruti, do you want to...?”

Shruti steps forward, curtsies quickly. “My lady, the only beings who know of the flower’s whereabouts are the wild pixies of the north. If someone were to journey to their realm, they would be able to find out the location of the flower.”

“How many of the flowers would be necessary to make a cure?”

“Just one,” Jonathan says. “Its properties are very potent. Just a few petals would cure the whole kingdom.”

Queen Tallulah’s jaw sets. “We should send out a party.”

“I agree,” Queen Lola says. “Darling, don’t you think this would be the perfect opportunity for Derek’s quest?”

Will sees Derek stiffen. Every prince or princess must venture on a quest before they can be made king or queen, to prove that they are worthy of ruling a kingdom. Denice’s was something about making a trade deal with the merpeople. Derek hasn’t had his yet.

All too handy that it’s coming along now.

Derek rises from his throne. “I would be honored to go on this journey. For the good of my kingdom, and for the good of my people.”

Queen Lola claps her hands together. “Then it’s settled! Derek, you will choose a party to go with you, and leave in the morning. Might I suggest some knights? Sir St. Martin or Sir Robinson, maybe?”

“You’re welcome to choose from my men, as well,” King Roland says. “Sir Parson is one of our best fighters. He would be an excellent choice.” Parson’s chest swells with pride. Will tries his hardest not to roll his eyes.

“My lord, my ladies, if I may?” River, the court scribe, steps forward. “I have read about the Clytemnestra flower before as well, and the geography of the areas that surround the realm of the pixies. Between Andover and the pixies is the Forest of Agnor. I think it would be best to send a small party, maybe even two people, through the Forest. It’s dangerous, full of wild beasts. Two people would attract much less attention than a whole quest-full.”

Queen Tallulah nods. “Derek? Who will go with you?”

Parson stands as tall as he can. Sir St. Martin and his men await gravely for a decision, standing at attention. Will watches as Derek’s eyes sweep the hall, throat working.

And then he looks at Will. Begs a silent question, waits for an equally silent answer.

Will has no choice. He clenches his jaw and nods.

Derek steps forward. “I’ve made my decision. I will take Will Poindexter with me as my companion.”

The hall dissolves into murmurs. Will sees Parson deflate and scowl in Derek’s direction, and tries not to smirk about it. King Roland turns and scrutinizes Will as if noticing him for the first time.

“Son,” Queen Lola says delicately. “Wouldn’t a more heavily-trained soldier of the kingdom be a better - “

Derek turns to her. “I trust Will more than I trust a lot of people. We’re both well-trained, many-skilled. I would rather have him or any other member of my personal guard over any knight.” He addresses the knights of his court. “I mean no offense.”

“That’s ok,” Sir Mashkov states. “We are not wanting to go on quest anyway.” Derek smiles wanly.

“Alright, then,” Queen Lola says. “You will leave with Poindexter first thing tomorrow.”

Will corners Derek in the hall afterwards, drags him into a secret alcove hidden behind a tapestry he knows well.

“Look, I live to serve you,” Will hisses. “But why the _hell_ did you choose me?”

Derek grins. In the low light levels, he somehow looks smugger than usual. Will isn’t sure if he wants to smack the smirk off his face or kiss it off.

“Dude, you’re cool. I didn’t want to go on a quest with someone I didn’t _like._ ”

“Ok, _Marty’s_ cool, why not choose him? Tater? Thirdy? Snowy? Whiskey? _Anyone_ else?” Will growls.

Derek shrugs, like he didn’t just sign Will up to go on a dangerous quest that the fate of Andover rests on. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the knights, but I don’t know them _that_ well. Plus, Whiskey’s so _glum_ all the time.”

Will throws up his hands in frustration. “Last time I checked, I’m not exactly a fucking ray of sunshine either, Nurse!”

“Yo, Dex, _chill._ ”

“ _Don’t tell me to chill._ ”

“Listen,” Derek says calmly. “I picked you because I _like_ you, dude. I trust you. You’re a good fighter, you’re a good tracker. You’re the captain of my guard, man, and if you weren’t in my guard, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a _knight._ If it was a larger party, I would take along Chris and Adam and Justin, too.”

Will falters. “But _why_ me? Why _not_ one of them?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “They’re not you.”

Will doesn’t know what that means, but it means _something._

“And, Will?” Derek says, peeling back the tapestry. “Pretty sure you agreed to come along before I even said anything.”

He leaves Will in the dark, stewing in his own juices, because he’s _right._ Of course he is.

Will wouldn’t have said no to the quest, _couldn’t have_ if he’d tried. And it isn’t because it would be his duty to do so.

No, it’s not that at all. It’s never that simple.

Not with Derek Nurse.

The next morning dawns like a secret, tendrils of fog snaking over the peaks of the mountains and whispering through the kingdom, dew dotting the fields and keeping the air silent as the grave.

“Perfect morning for a quest,” Adam remarks, looking out the window, and Will supposes he’s right.

“Ugh, you’re so _lucky,_ ” Justin says. “What I wouldn’t give to get out of here and do something _interesting_ for a change.”

“Oh, yeah,” says Will as he laces up his boots. “I’m super lucky. Getting to go on a potentially life-threatening quest that, if failed, will bring about the destruction of Andover as we know it? _Great_ time, I’m so fortunate.”

“You _are_ ,” Justin moans. “I’ve always wanted to see a pixie.”

“They’re just tiny people with wings, Rans, I really don’t think it’s all that special.”

“Yeah, but they can _fly!_ They have _magic._ ”

“Jus, I’ll take you to see the pixies sometime,” Adam says.

“Really? Fuck yeah, man.” They fist bump.

“You know, sometimes,” Will deadpans. “It’s hard to tell if you guys are actually dating or not.”

“Oh, come on, Dexy,” Chris says. “Stop being so negative! You’re gonna go on a cool journey, you’re gonna have lots of fun, you’re gonna save the kingdom, _and_ you get to do it with _Derek!_ It’s a total romantic set up, it’s perfect.”

Will splutters. “ _Wh -_ It is _not_ romantic, what are you - _stop._ ”

“I don’t know...” Adam turns to him, grinning wolfishly. Will wants to punch him in his stupid, perfect teeth. “A quest? Just the two of you? Visiting mythical creatures? Finding a magic flower? Defending each other from ferocious beasts, and maybe doing some cuddling along the way? Sounds like the dream to me.”

“It is _not_ \- we are _not_ \- “

“Go on. _Finish that sentence._ ”

“...I hate you guys so much.”

When Will meets Derek outside with Simon, the court is waiting to bid them farewell. Derek nods curtly at Will as he stands by him, and Will can tell that he’s very nervous.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t as well.

“Will,” someone hisses. It’s Denice.

“Princess.”

“Come back safe,” she says, teeth worrying her lower lip. “If not for me, then - for Gwen.”

“For Gwen,” Will tells her, and she nods, a few tears rolling down her face.

“Thank you.”

“Who’s Gwen?” Derek asks quietly once she’s gone.

“I’ll tell you later.”

Derek looks at him strangely, but Will ignores it.

“Prince Derek,” Queen Tallulah announces. “Captain Poindexter. We thank you for what you are about to do. For the dangers you will face, for the willingness to serve your kingdom, and for what you are doing for your people. We wish you safe travels, and that you will succeed in your mission, and bring health and prosperity back to the kingdom of Andover.”

Will and Derek nod simultaneously.

“Good luck, son,” Queen Tallulah says.

  
  
“We love you,” Queen Lola adds, and then Lukas beats his drum, and they’re off.

“It should take us about three days to get to the pixies,” Derek says. “And another three to get back.”

Will nods, but doesn’t say anything. The morning blends on into afternoon, both passing in almost total silence. No sunlight comes out from beyond the blanketed sky, but dark storm clouds begin to gather on the horizon, and Will knows it’s going to rain.

It’s almost evening when they finally make it to the outskirts of the forest. They pause for a moment in their riding, just staring.

As forests go, Agnor isn’t particularly welcoming. It’s dark and cold-looking, with black trees and black air and black soil and black everything. Brambles and thorns fill it, reaching out even at the forest’s edges to snag on clothing and scratch and bite at flesh. Travelers pass through here often enough, usually merchants peddling their wares, but only a handful make it through to the other side. There are other ways to pass to the lands beyond, safer ways, but those ways are longer. Months longer, as opposed to Agnor’s days.

But is it worth the quick passage if your life is on the line?

Will can’t think of his own life. The only lives that matter right now are the lives of the people back in Andover, ailing and suffering and waiting for a cure.

“Right, so,” Derek says, staring straight ahead of him into the pitch darkness that awaits. “We just go in, and we - we go through.”

Will looks at him. “Are you scared?”

Derek glares. “What? No - I’m not - I’m not _scared,_ Poindexter. I’m a Prince _._ I don’t _get_ scared.”

Will raises an eyebrow. “I think you’d be insane not to be afraid right now. I am.”

Derek casts a furtive glance his way, sighs deeply. “Alright, fine. I’m not exactly looking forward to going in there. Happy?”

Will turns to the forest. “I’m not looking forward to it, either.”

“Well, let’s just - let’s just _go._ ” Derek spurs his horse onward, and Will follows.

The change in the air when they enter the forest is palpable. Any sounds they had heard before, the babbling of far-off brooks, the chirping of birds, the buzzing of crickets, even the wind whistling through the trees - it’s gone. There’s no sound in Agnor, nothing but the sound of the horses’s hooves trampling leaves and their own heavy breathing.

“Jesus,” Derek murmurs. “Didn’t expect it to be so quiet.”

“Neither did I,” Will says.

They go on for a while, trying to stick to the crude and weathered trail that’s been beaten down from lifetimes of wagons and people passing through. The forest is always quiet, always still, except for the few times when something passes through it, a little ways away, slinking in between the trees. Derek and Will never see it (or _them_ ), but it sounds big. The only other noises are the occasional sudden hoot of an owl, or something howling from far off.

Will really hopes that howl doesn’t get any closer than it already is.

Eventually, even the sky above loses all light, and the thunder begins to boom, far off at first, but urgent the closer the storm gets.

“We should make camp,” Will says.

Derek glances back at him. “Yeah. Do you think there’s shelter near here?”

“I don’t know,” Will replies. “But if there is, we’d better find it soon.”

After many minutes of searching and squinting through the dark, they manage to find a cave just as the sky opens up and begins to pour. Suddenly the forest is alive with movement, wind whipping through the trees and sky illuminating with flashes of lightning.

“ _Do you think it’s safe?_ ” Derek yells over the wind, peering into the inky depths of the cave’s maw.

“ _No_ ,” Will shouts back. “ _But I’d really rather not get struck by lightning!_ ”

Thankfully, the cave seems to be empty, apart from a few bats hanging from the ceiling that fly away once Will gets a small fire going. The light from the fire seems out of place and tacky, like this dark cavern in this dark forest was never supposed to be lit up (which it probably wasn’t).

“Penny for your thoughts?” Derek asks, once they’ve taken off their armor and stretched out on their bedrolls.

Will snorts. “Probably nothing that isn’t already showing on my face.”

Derek takes a bite of dried salt pork, chewing slowly and thoughtfully. Something in his face seems to shift, ever-so-slightly.

“Mom wanted me to bring Princess Denice, you know,” he says.

Will looks at him. Derek won’t meet his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Derek swallows, crosses his arms behind his head and stares at the cave ceiling. “She talked to me yesterday after court. After I chose you. She suggested bringing the Princess instead. Said it would be the perfect ‘bonding opportunity,’ whatever the hell _that_ means.”

Will watches him from across the fire, observes his side profile and the rise and fall of his chest, silently, cautiously, like he always does, like always. “And what did you say to her?” Will whispers, though he already knows the answer.

Derek shuts his eyes. “I told her I’d made my decision, and I wasn’t going to change my mind. Not for anything in the world.”

Will tries not to say anything, but the question tugs at his lips, begging and pleading, until it finally slips out anyway.

“Do you want to marry her?”

Derek glances over at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, like he hadn’t expected tobe asked. “What? Of course I want to marry her, dude. I _have_ to marry her.”

“Having to and wanting to aren’t the same thing,” Will reminds him. He knows he shouldn’t ask, knows that it isn’t any of his business at all, but he also knows that Derek doesn’t have feelings for Denice. He doesn’t want him to live a lie.

“Ok, well, it doesn’t matter what I _want,_ ” Derek says, sitting up exasperatedly. “I can’t _do_ what I want, ok, and I have to marry Denice Ford to unite our two kingdoms and to produce an heir, and there’s nothing I can do about it, and that’s all there is to it! We’ll pretend to be in love to appease our parents, and then we’ll marry and rule together once there’s no one else left to rule.”

Will sits up too, looks Derek directly in the eyes. “I think it’s bullshit.”

Derek laughs hollowly. “Yeah. It is. It really is.”

“No,” Will presses on. “When your parents fell in love, your mom did everything in her power to marry your mother. Even when she thought she wasn’t royalty, your mom kept researching until she found a link. Do you think she would’ve just sat there and done nothing if your mother _didn’t_ have any royal blood?”

Derek looks at the ground. “No. Probably not.”

“ _Exactly,_ ” Will says. “So why they expect you to marry someone you don’t love when they didn’t have that issue with _their_ marriage is complete _bullshit._ ”

Derek frowns. “I guess you’re right...but they wouldn’t listen.”

“ _No,_ but - “ Will’s on his feet now, pacing up and down the length of the cave, raising his voice to be heard over the din outside. “If you or the Princess loved someone common, someone proven to have not an _ounce_ of royal blood in their body, would you just leave them behind? Forget about them forever? It isn’t fair, to you, or to the commoner. It’s totally _fucked up_ that you can’t marry whoever you want, just because of _blood._ ”

He’d like to believe he isn’t talking about himself. He’s strictly speaking of Gwen, Gwen only, Gwen who Derek doesn’t even know about yet.

But he can’t ignore that he’s common, too. And he’s in just as much trouble as Gwen is.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Derek asks. “I swear to God, I feel like I’m missing something.”

Will stills. 

How the fuck is he supposed to get himself out of this one?

He wets his lips. “Well, I - _Get down._ ”

There’s something moving outside, moving very close to the mouth of the cave. Will can hear its growl, can see pricks of light in the darkness that look like a pair of eyes.

“The horses,” Derek whispers. He reaches for his sword on the ground next to him, and looks at Will.

Will wraps his fingers around the hilt of his own sword, and nods.

Outside is a whirlwind of freezing cold sheets of rain and swaying branches. There’s so much going on, so much noise, so much sound, so much motion, that Will doesn’t notice the wolf at first.

It’s huge, the size of a cow, prowling low to the ground, eyeing the blade of Derek’s sword warily. The horses have backed up as far as they can while still tethered, watching the wolf with terrified eyes.

Will means to wait until the moment is right to strike. Of course, Derek goes ahead and starts without him. He yells and brings the sword down in a sweeping arc, narrowly missing the wolf as it jumps out of the way.

“You couldn’t have waited?” Will asks, irritated, as the wolf throws its head back and howls a howl that chills him to the bone.

“Sorry,” Derek says, and the wolf pounces on him and tackles him to the ground.

Will doesn’t even think about it, he just throws his body forward and plunges the sword into the wolf’s side. The wolf yelps, not fatally wounded, but hurt enough to roll off of Derek. Will gets distracted, checks to see if he’s alright.

“ _Shit, oh my God -_ “ Derek says, and that’s the last thing Will hears before the wolf lunges at him with flashing teeth. Will feels the bite of steel on his shoulder, takes one look at the blood gushing out of his body, and promptly falls to the ground.

For all he knows, he’s dead.

_He wakes up in a sunkissed field full of daylilies, grass glinting in the light of the late afternoon. There’s a stream rushing by, forming miniature waterfalls over the stones in the creek bed, flowing under a small wooden footbridge crossing it. On the other side is a house, a cottage, at the base of a hill, with a garden out front and a store shed to the side of it. Far off in the distance, there’s the sound of waves crashing on the beach. Will’s sitting under a tree he knows well: the old sycamore in his parents’s backyard._

_He’s home._

_And he isn’t alone. Someone is sleeping on top of him, head tucked into his chest. A very familiar someone, with dark hair and long legs -_

_“Hey,” Derek says, opening his eyes and looking up at Will. He smiles._

_“Hi,” Will says. Maybe he’s smiling. Maybe he isn’t. He can’t tell._

_“Sleep well?” Derek asks, reaching for Will’s hand. He grabs it, laces their fingers together like it’s the easiest thing in the world._

_“Will?”_

_“Yeah,” Will says, remembering how to breathe. “Yeah, I slept ok. You?”_

_Derek holds their clasped hands up and kisses Will’s knuckles. Will feels a shiver arch through his body. “I always sleep well when I’m with you.”_

_“Right,” Will says. This isn’t real. It can’t be. “Of course.”_

_“It’s probably almost dinner time,” Derek says. “I think your mom’s making rhubarb pie.”_

_“Ok,” Will says. He clears his throat. “Hey, Derek?”_

_“What’s up?”_

_“Aren’t you supposed to be marrying Denice?”_

_Derek frowns. “Who’s Denice?”_

_“Never mind,” Will tells him. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want it to end._

_“Hey,” Derek says, sitting up. He presses his forehead to Will’s, and Will feels like he’s going to_ explode. _“You feeling ok?”_

_“Yeah,” Will says automatically. “Of course.”_

_Derek grins. “I’m going to kiss you now.”_

_“Ok,” Will says faintly. “Do that.”_

_Derek laughs softly, and Will can count each and every one of his long eyelashes, and he’s leaning closer, and his lips are almost on Will’s, and -_

“ - you shouldn’t have much trouble after that, but I have to warn you, the flower - wait, shit, he’s waking up. Tango, go get me some water.”

“But I’m in the middle of - “

“Tango, dude, now, man, before I hex you.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“Hey, Will. Will. Poindexter. You awake?”

Will opens his eyes slowly, groggily. His vision is blurry, and everything looks hazy, like he’s peering through mist.

“ _What’s goin’ on?_ ” he slurs, and then someone slaps him in the face with a wet rag. The shock of the cold wakes him up, and he sits up, holding his face where it stings.

“Ow, what the _hell?_ ”

“Sorry,” someone says. “But we need you awake.”

Will looks around. He’s in a hut of some sorts, made of earth, with dirt walls and a grassy floor. It’s of a pretty spacious size, with room for three other cots besides his own, and a kitchen area, and a bookshelf, and a long stone worktable littered with parchment and bottles and flasks of different-colored liquids. There’s a guy sitting in a chair by the stove, holding a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn which trails off into a long, knitted train onto the floor. There’s a girl standing near the foot of the cot, peering down at Will with narrowed eyes. And sitting directly to Will’s left is -

“Yo, dude, you feeling ok?”

He looks at Derek. He really, _really_ hopes he wasn’t talking in his sleep. “Where are we?” he asks. “And why - “ He prods at the bandages around his shoulder that he’s only just noticed. “Why does my arm feel like it’s going to _fall off?_ ”

“Turns out whatever the fuck that wolf thing was back there was poisonous,” Derek says, smiling at Will like it’s no big deal that he almost just _died._ “After I killed it, I went to look for help and found Lardo here.”

The girl standing by the bed lifts her hand in greeting. “‘Sup.”

“Hi,” Will says slowly. “What's going on? Who are you?”

The girl - _Lardo_ \- spreads her arms out grandly, but with an air of sarcasm, gesturing around her. “This is my house. That’s Tango, my apprentice,” she says, jerking her thumb back at the guy in the chair. “He’s an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“You’re in the only truly safe part of Agnor, dude,” Lardo continues. “Lucky this Prince guy found me, or you’d probably be six feet under right about now.”

Will swallows thickly. Had he really come so close to dying? “How long have I been asleep?” he asks.

“Two days,” Derek answers. 

Will’s mouth falls open. “Two _days?_ ” he demands. “You should’ve _done_ something! Woken me up sooner!”

“Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen,” Lardo says. “The poultice I put on your shoulder needed two days to set and for all the magic to seep in. Just as well you woke up now, anyway.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Yeah, a lot of good that did, my arm feels like - wait, did you say _magic?_ ”

Lardo smirks. “Welcome to the only witch’s hut you’ll find in Agnor, William.”

And Will just stares. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.” Lardo flicks her hand, and a tray of scones whisk themselves out of the oven and hover over to the bed. “Eat up. You’ve got to get going soon.”

Will gapes. “A witch,” he says faintly, as he watches her stroll over to the worktable and start measuring something in a glass tube.

“Yup,” Derek confirms, reaching for a scone. “I was pretty surprised at first, too. _Owfuckhot._ ”

Will shakes his head, dumbfounded. “Justin’s gonna be _so_ mad he didn’t get to come.”

Derek laughs, and Will smiles, and the scones taste really good, so even if he doesn’t completely understand what’s going on, at least it isn’t bad.

“Anyway, as I was saying before you woke up,” Lardo says, walking back over to them with a smoking goblet in hand. “We’re at the outskirts of the woods, so you’ve got a pretty straight track in order to get to the pixies of the north. Once you get there, they’ll tell you where the flower is, but only if you give them something in return, which is why you’re gonna take this honey,” She pulls a jar of glowing golden honey seemingly out of thin air and hands it to Derek. “And give it to them.”

“And the Clytemnestra flower?” Derek asks.

“Right. The flower. Once you find it, it shouldn’t be _too_ difficult to get; but there is a test.”

“A test?” Will asks. That’s _just_ what they need.

Lardo smiles grimly. “Are you familiar with the story of Clytemnestra?”

Will and Derek shake their heads in unison.

Lardo claps her hands. Every source of light, in or outside of the hut, is suddenly extinguished with a loud _whooshing_ noise.

“I was _using_ that,” Tango complains from the chair.

“Shut up,” Lardo says. She pulls a handful of colorless dust out of the pocket of her tunic, and blows it into the air. It suspends there, suddenly glowing gold, shifting, changing.

“Yeah, I know it’s dramatic,” says Lardo, smirking at the looks on their faces. “But I like that sort of stuff sometimes.”

Tango mutters something under his breath. Lardo kicks back at him.

“ _Ow!_ ”

“Clytemnestra was married to a warrior, Agamemnon,” Lardo says. The dust swirls around to form two figures, a man and a woman.

“When he went off to war, he had to sacrifice a priestess of Diana in order to appease the goddess, so she would allow the winds to blow their ships along their course. Out of impatience and unwillingness to wait for someone else, Agamemnon chose to murder his own daughter, the virgin priestess Iphigenia.” Dust Agamemnon reaches out and slits the throat of a young girl. More dust cascades out of the wound, splattering Agamemnon’s body.

“Clytemnestra was furious with what he’d done, and waited many years for his return, plotting and planning with her lover to bring about Agamemnon’s demise. And when he came home, she murdered the man she’d once loved, as penance for the loss of her daughter.” Clytemnestra and her lover draw Agamemnon a bath, and then strangle him in the tub.

Lardo snaps her fingers. The dust dissipates, and the light returns, almost as if it had never been gone at all.

“The Clytemnestra flower is wary,” Lardo explains. “When someone tries to take it, it judges their heart. It judges what they have done, what they will do, and what they want the flower for. If a thief wanted it for their own selfish greed, they would fail the flower’s test.”

“What happens if you fail?” Will asks. He can’t help it.

Lardo raises her eyebrows. “Best not to think about it.”

Derek swallows. “Great.”

“Oh, I think you guys will be _fine,_ ” Lardo says, shrugging. “I mean, you want the flower for a good cause, not just for yourselves, and as far as I can tell, your hearts are good. At least, I hope so. For your sake.”

She shoves the still smoking goblet at Will. “Drink up. Tango, take Will outside and help him saddle up the horses. I need to talk to the Prince in private.”

Will eyes the concoction warily, but when he drinks it, he instantly feels better. Warmth floods through his body, his shoulder no longer hurts, and he feels rejuvenated, like he hasn’t spent the past forty-eight hours passed out in a cot. He stands up out of the bed, takes a moment to stretch and pop the bones in his back.

“Thank fuck,” he hears Derek say. “Thought you’d never walk again.”

Will smiles at him. Derek smiles back.

“Come on,” Tango says, and Will has no choice but to follow.

When he gets outside, he stops and stares. There’s no way this hut is in the Forest of Agnor, no way in hell. The trees here are more spaced apart, birds flitting in and out of the branches. There’s a river snaking by the house, and it’s clear and pure and full of fish, jumping up above the surface of the water before diving back down again. There’s a garden full of flowers and vegetables, there’s fruit trees, there’s no brambles, there’s a breeze, and there’s _sun._

“How...?”

Tango grins. “Magic,” he says, as if that’s an answer.

Will follows him over to where the horses are tethered to the wall surrounding the cottage, saddle bags bulging with things that they definitely hadn’t had in them when they’d first set out from Andover. Tango reaches over and pets Penelope, Derek’s horse, singing softly to her in a language Will doesn’t recognize.

“What are you doing?” he asks after a few moments of this.

“They’re still pretty shaken up from the wolf attack.” Tango moves on to Simon, stroking his mane. “I’ve been coming out and singing to them so they’ll feel better.”

“Is it a spell?” Will can’t help but ask. 

Tango smiles. “Of course.”

Will nods, pretends like he understands, but everything is still so _new_ to him. Sure, he’s always known magic _exists,_ but always as the stuff of legend. It’s rare to encounter a warlock. Most people go their whole lives without meeting one.

Now Will knows _two._

“So,” Tango says once he’s finished singing to Simon. “Tell me about Prince Derek.”

Will frowns. “What do you mean?”

Tango hauls himself up onto the stone wall, leans back on his hands and crosses his feet at the ankles. He fixes Will with a scrutinizing look, one that makes Will feel like his personal privacy is _definitely_ being violated.

“When did you start loving him?”

Will can’t even be surprised anymore. He sighs. “How did you know?”

Tango shrugs. He holds a hand out, and two ripe apples fly off the trees and race towards him. He feeds one to Simon, tosses the other to Will to give to Penelope. “Something about your energy. I can’t read auras, not like Lardo can, but I can still pick up on things.”

Will decides to worry about _auras_ a different time. “What, like - You can read my mind?”

Tango giggles. “No, not exactly. Well, sort of. I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to explain? Basically, I can sense emotions, but I can’t look into your thoughts. It’s weird, I know, but it’s just something I can do. So, like, for example, if you were thinking about how much you wanted to eat pancakes, I wouldn’t be able to tell that you wanted pancakes _specifically,_ but I would know that you were hungry. It’s like I can tell what you’re feeling I guess?”

Will stares at him, dumb-founded. “Wow, you talk a lot.”

Tango shrugs. “That’s what everyone says. But that’s how I know you love Derek. I could sort of catch bits of it while you were asleep, if you were having a particularly vibrant dream or something, but I really got it when you woke up. Dude, there’s just so much _love_ rippling off of you when you look at him.”

Will tries to force himself not to blush, but naturally, it happens anyway. “Yeah, well, nothing’s going to come out of it. He doesn’t like me back.”

Tango raises his eyebrows. “Really? Are you sure? Like, I try not to get too involved in people’s personal lives (not that we get many outsiders here) if they don’t want me to (and they never want me to, haha), but I’m pretty sure Derek - “

The door to the house opens, and Lardo and Derek walk out.

“What?” Will asks. “You’re pretty sure Derek what?”

Tango blinks. “Oh, nothing,” he hums, and goes back to singing to the horses.

Will stares at him incredulously. Weird dude.

“Well,” Lardo says, clapping her hands together. “You two should be good to go. Got the honey?”

Derek holds it up.

“Perfect. Alright, don’t do anything stupid, and be sure to pass that test! The rest of the way out of the woods won’t be dangerous if you stick to the path. See ya!”

“Bye!” Tango says. Will waves, still trying to wrap his head around what Tango had told him.

“Come on, Poindexter,” Derek says, turning Penelope onto the trail. “Let’s go find those pixies.”

It isn’t too long before they’re out of the forest, and in the mountains. Tendrils of mist snake near their bases, and clouds shroud their peaks in mystery. As far as Will can tell, they carry on forever.

And it’s quiet. Deathly quiet.

He raises his eyebrows. “Please tell me we don’t have to climb those. We don’t have to climb those, right?”

“No,” Derek says. “Lardo said that if we keep to the trail and go straight through we’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Will says. Derek hums in agreement.

“Hey,” Will says suddenly, shattering the blanketed silence surrounding them. “What did Lardo talk to you about? When I was outside with Tango.”

Derek stiffens from beside him. “She - uh, it was just - directions and stuff.”

“Ok,” Will says, but he gets the sense that Derek isn’t being completely truthful.

“Poindexter?” Derek says a few moments later. “Who’s Gwen?”

Will hesitates, a little taken aback. “She’s Princess Denice’s handmaiden. Why do you ask?”

Derek keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead of him, looking at the path. “You mentioned her earlier. Or, Denice said something to you right before we left.”

Will raises his eyebrows, surprised that he’d even remembered that. Andover was only a few days ago, but it feels like a lifetime.

“She was just wishing me luck.”

“She said, ‘Do it for Gwen.’ Do you know her well?”

Will turns and looks at him. “Yeah, I’ve met her. Why does it matter?”

Derek shrugs, a little too forcefully. “It doesn’t, I’m just bored and trying to think of things to talk about.”

“Sure...”

“ _Honestly,_ dude. We can talk about something else if you want.”

Will sighs. “She has the Spring Queen’s Revenge.”

“Oh,” Derek says. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” Will says. “And Denice is really worried about her.”

“ _Denice?_ ” He can hear the smirk in Derek’s voice. “Since when are you on a first name basis with the Princess of Samwell?”

Will bristles. He hadn’t meant to slip up like that. “She asked me to call her that.”

“I’ve been asking you not to call me ‘my lord’ for, like, at least five years, man. How come she gets the special treatment?”

“I don’t work for her,” Will says, starting to feel irritated. “At least, not directly. And if you’ve been bothered at all to notice, I don’t call you _‘my lord’_ anymore.”

He can feel Derek’s stare. “Yo, chill, man. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Will huffs. “Sorry. I’m just. I’m stressed, I think.”

“You think?”

“I don’t know.”

An exhale of breath, a puff of air exiting the lungs. “Yeah, me neither.”

There’s another few minutes of silence, and then -

“I used to hate you,” Will says, not even sure of why he does. “Back when I first started working for you.”

Derek chuckles quietly. “Yeah. I know. The feeling was pretty mutual.”

Will snorts. “I think we were just a couple of stupid kids.”

“We still _are_ a couple of stupid kids,” Derek points out, and Will laughs.

“What changed?” Derek asks. “When did we cross the line between hating each other’s guts and being able to tolerate each other?

Will considers it. “I guess we just got older,” he decides. “We changed. I changed. _You_ changed.”

“Was it a good change?” Derek asks quietly, and Will feels his heart race.

“It was,” Will returns, equally as silent. “It always is.”

“Yeah. _Yeah._ ”

Will doesn’t know what - He can’t -

What _is_ this?

He should -

He says, “Denice is in love with Gwen.”

Derek freezes. “ _What?_ ”

Will looks at him, grimaces. “Ugh, I wasn’t really supposed to tell you, but you would’ve found out anyway, once you married her - Gwen and Denice are in love. But they can’t be together because...you know...”

“Right,” Derek says. “How do you know?”

Will pauses. He can’t tell Derek how he knows. How deeply he _understands_ Gwen’s feelings, her feelings for someone she can’t have but _wants_ so badly.

“I walked in on them,” he says finally. “On accident.”

It isn’t a complete lie.

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Holy shit, really?”

“Yeah,” Will says. “And they asked me not to tell anyone, and I didn’t, but now I’m telling you, and I really hope that doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass at some point.”

“No,” Derek says, shaking his head. “No, this is great news, this is - wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Will frowns, looks over at him. “Why is it such great news?”

Derek blinks. “Because. You know. I was worried Ford actually had feelings for me, and I was stringing her along.”

Will stares at him for a few seconds, and snorts. “No, you weren’t.” He fixes his eyes back on the road.

“Whatever.”

Will smiles to himself. “You wanted to know why I stopped calling you ‘my lord?’”

Derek eyes him. “Yeah?”

Will sighs. “You changed again. It didn’t feel right anymore.”

“Is that ok?”

“Yeah. It always is,” Will repeats. He looks at Derek. Derek looks back.

Something’s different. Something’s _shifted,_ separate out here than how it was back in Andover, than how it was even back in the forest. Will isn’t sure what it is, if it’s good or bad, but it’s palpable. _Tangible._ Derek is looking at him and Will is looking back and nothing is how it used to be, nothing at all.

“Will,” Derek murmurs.

“Yeah?”

Derek looks away, finally breaking the contact that Will hadn’t known how to decipher.

“I think we’re here,” he says, nodding his head towards a spot in front of him.

Will follows his gaze. “Holy _shit._ ”

The pixies live on a lake, nestled in a valley between the tallest mountains Will has ever seen. There’s grass everywhere, and mountain flowers, but the air is still cloudy, still cold, still mysterious. In the center of the lake, floating on the surface, is a small, green, vibrant island, glowing with energy _._ There’s a couple of trees, lights glistening in their branches, and though it’s hard to tell, Will’s pretty sure there are millions of tiny shapes moving around on the ground and flitting through the air.

But the craziest thing about the place is the sheer _power_ emanating off of it, ebbing and flowing and coursing in and out of Will’s veins like blood. It’s raw, it’s pure, it’s truth, it’s _life,_ and it’s filling Will up, spreading out from his core, reaching the tips of his fingers, the nails on his toes, every follicle of hair on his body.

“Holy shit,” Will repeats. “Do you - ?”

“Yeah,” Derek says throatily. “Yeah, I feel it, too.”

“So,” Will says, trying to find his words. “So, do we just...go up there? Call for them? Swim across?”

“Look.” Derek lifts his arm and points up in the air. Will looks.

Two of the small, air-borne shapes have broken away from the island, and are zooming towards them at top-speed.

“Pixies,” Derek breathes, and Will nods slowly, as if underwater.

The shapes stop right in front of them, hovering in midair. They’re two pixie girls, about as tall as blades of grass, smiling at Will and Derek brightly.

“Hi!” one of them, with bright blue butterfly wings says cheerily. The other one, with wings as clear as glass, waves enthusiastically.

“Uh,” Derek says. “Hi? I’m Prince Derek of Andover? And this is Will Poindexter.”

“Awesome!” the same one who’d greeted them exclaims. “I’m Mandy, and that’s Jenny. Are you here to talk to Johnson?”

Will frowns. “Who’s Johnson?”

“Johnson’s our leader!” Jenny says. “We don’t get many visitors here, but when we do, we have them see him.”

“Then, yes,” Derek says. “Yeah, we’d like to speak to Johnson, please.”

“Ok, great! Follow us!” The pair turn and begin to fly back towards the lake. Derek and Will start walking.

“Onto the island?” Will asks once they reach the water’s edge.

“Sorry, but we don’t actually let humans on our island!” Mandy says. “Too dangerous. No, you stay here, and we’ll bring Johnson to you.”

They head for the island, leaving Derek and Will alone and bewildered.

“So that,” Derek says. “That was a _thing._ ”

“Yeah,” Will replies.

“I guess I didn’t think pixies were so...?”

“Peppy?” Will suggests.

Derek shakes his head. “It’s just not really what I was expecting, man.”

“Yeah,” Will says, watching as Mandy and Jenny return, with another pixie in between them. “Me neither.”

“Heard you dudes need some assistance,” the middle guy, _Johnson,_ says. This dude’s wings are huge and leathery, like a bat’s. They look way too big for his body, and Johnson looks way too relaxed to be the leader. Derek shoots a baffled glance in Will’s direction. Will shrugs as nonchalantly as possible, turns back to the others.

“Uh,” he says. “Yes. We’re from the kingdom of Andover. There’s a terrible plague, and the only thing that can cure it is a draught from the Clytemnestra flower.”

“Ahhh,” Johnson says, smiling mysteriously. “I gotcha. You want to know where to find it.”

“Ideally,” Derek responds.

Johnson crosses his arms, still grinning weirdly. “I can tell you, but you know you gotta give us something in return.”

“Oh!” Derek says. “Right.” He rummages around in his pack until he produces the jar of honey from Lardo. It had glowed before, but in the presence of all this power, it’s almost _blinding._ Will looks away from it, just to make sure he doesn’t lose his sight before he turns thirty.

Mandy gasps. “Is that - ?”

Johnson grins even wider. “You met Lardo? _Sweet._ Always nice to have some of her honey around. Here, Mandy and Jenny will take that.”

The two come forward, and between them, manage to keep the jar afloat. It looks a lot bigger when it’s being held by two creatures that are only marginally taller than Will’s index finger. The pixies heft it between them and slowly start to fly back to the island.

“Is that all you need?” Derek asks.

Johnson nods. “Brah, don’t worry, I’m not gonna make you get me something else. I’m not one of those guys that demands, like, _forty chests of gold_ from his guests. Just think of it as a house-warming gift. A toll you gotta pay before you advance.”

“And where do we have to advance _to?_ ” Will asks.

“See that mountain?” Johnson points far off into the distance, at a peak just barely visible between the cliffs forming the gap leading out of the valley. “There’s this cave there that has all the Clytemnestra flowers you’ll ever need. But I gotta warn you: there’s a test.”

“Yeah, we know,” Derek says. “Lardo told us.”

Johnson claps his hands together. “Great! Then you know about the dragon that guards it?”

Will stares. “The what?”

Johnson laughs. “I’m just kidding. If you start now, you could probably get there by nightfall. Here, you can take the bridge to the other side of the lake.” He snaps his fingers, and a bridge of pure silver glitter, much like the dust Lardo had shown them, forms to the left of the island.

Will goes to grab the horses and leads them back to the banks.

“Thank you,” Derek says, mounting Penelope. “Great Pixie King? Is that what people call you?”

Johnson waves his hand. “Oh, stop it, you flatter me. People just call me _Johnson,_ dude.”

As they start to head across, Johnson calls after them, “Thanks for the honey! Don’t try going on the island, or we’ll have to kill you!”

Derek looks at Will. “Is he serious?”

Will shakes his head. He feels the onset of a headache. “I really have no idea.”

As soon as they leave the valley, Will feels the energy drain out of him. Next to him, Derek slumps in his saddle.

“Mmf,” he groans. “ _Fuck,_ I’m tired.”

“Me too,” Will says. He yawns. “Ugh, but we’re almost there. Let’s just keep going.”

So they do.

The sun has sunken low below the horizon by the time they reach the mountain Johnson had pointed out. There’s still a flat expanse of grass before them, but they’re there all the same. It’s dark enough that Will can only really make out things a few feet in front of him. He can hear crickets chirping, cicadas buzzing. There’s fireflies zipping around the field, winking in and out. Moisture lies heavy in the air. It’s the most normal this quest has ever felt.

“Do you think we have to climb it?” Derek asks, eyeing the mountain warily. “Or is the cave at, like, ground-level?”

“I don’t know.” Will dismounts Simon. “He didn’t really say.”

He squints ahead of him, trying to see through the absence of light. “Can you see anything...?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, but - Do you hear that?”

Will listens. Hoofbeats, unmistakeable. More than one horse, galloping towards them, which means - more than one person.

“I thought no one lived around here!” Will hisses.

Derek shrugs, looking slightly panicked. “We assumed? I guess no one ever _said_ there was no one here.”

Will hoists himself back onto his horse, touches his sword, preparing himself for anything.

A rider comes into view, out of the darkness, flanked on either side by two others. They’re clad in armor, helmets covering their faces. The one in the middle comes forward, still maintaining a safe distance.

“Who are you?” they demand.

“Prince Derek of Andover,” Derek answers. “And Will Poindexter, my guard.”

“What do you want?”

Derek licks his lips. “We need a Clytemnestra flower. Our kingdom has fallen under a terrible sickness; the flower is the only thing that can save it.”

The rider is silent for a moment. And then they say, “You know of the test?”

Derek swallows. “Yes. And we are perfectly ready to face it.”

The rider hesitates once more. And then they remove their helmet, letting loose a long sheet of wavy, brown hair.

“I’m George,” the rider says. “I guard the Clytemnestra flowers. Come on, follow me. We’ll see if your hearts are true.”

“Can we take off our helmets, too?” another rider asks. “It’s so _humid_ out here.”

George rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go ahead.”

The others reveal their faces. The one who’d asked the question has curly blonde hair and big eyes. The other has darker hair and skin, and looks utterly unimpressed with the new visitors.

“Hi,” the blonde girl says. “I’m March. That’s April.” She points to the other girl.

Dex snorts. March turns to him.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just - March and April.”

April rolls her eyes. March giggles. “Oh, yeah.”

“Come on,” George says. “Let’s take ‘em back to camp.”

Camp turns out to be a simple guardhouse, made out of stone, with beds, a stove, and a fireplace. There’s stables outside where Derek and Will leave the horses, and a small training area farther out on the grass, but other than that, there isn’t much.

“So, how’d you guys end up here?” Derek asks, sipping a mug of tea. “It’s pretty lonely, isn’t it?”

April shrugs. “It’s ok, I guess.”

“My family’s been doing this for years,” George explains. “Generations and generations of Martins have been guarding the flowers for centuries. So, once my dad retired, I moved here from my family’s place in Tenfalls, and carried on the torch, so to speak.”

“Then April and I showed up,” March says. “We escaped from a brothel caravan, but then we were stranded in the mountains. We didn’t think we’d survive until we found George here.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” Will asks. He’s not strictly a people-person by any means, but it seems like a pretty isolated lifestyle.

April shrugs. “We have each other. Not many people come by here. When they do, we tell them not to tell anyone we’re here. The less people who know about the flowers, the better. We really don’t need huge crowds of people flocking here.”

“Well, we’re not the wrong hands, let me assure you,” Derek says warmly. “All we need is one flower to save our kingdom, and then we’ll be on our way.”

‘Right, well,” George says. “You seem like nice guys. And even if you’re not, the test will determine the truth. My advice? Stay here tonight. Go and get the flower in the morning, when it’s light out. We’ve got some extra cots, for visitors.”

“Thank you,” Derek says. Will nods with agreement.

“Who sent you here, anyway?” March asks, as George goes to make supper. “Like, how’d you know to find the flower here?”

Will sighs. “Um. We found out through a lot of people? Our court physician told us about the flower, and then we met this witch who sent us to the pixies, and we just came from them. They told us where the cave was.”

March smirks. “Oh, did you meet Johnson?”

Nursey scoffs. “Chyeah. Dude’s _weird._ ”

April smiles. “We know.”

“Yeah,” March says, laughing. “One time, he told me and April that one day we’d meet these two guys, and then we asked if they were supposed to be like, _boyfriend_ _opportunities_ for us, because that would be so totally unfortunate for _them,_ then, and he said,” She pitches her voice low and hoods her eyes, releases the tension from her body and shakes her head slowly. “‘ _Nah, brah, they’re just like, your other halves. But not like, sexually or romantically or anything. They’re just_ you.’ And we were like, God, what do the warlocks put in that _honey?_ ”

Will sneaks a glance at Derek. Derek laughs. “Dudes, I think we _know_ those two guys.”

“Wait, really?” April asks. “I thought Johnson was just crazy.”

“Nah, man,” Derek says. “I’ll tell them to drop by, sometime.”

Will laughs, and Derek smiles at him and laughs, too.

They get up early the next morning, steeling themselves for the task ahead. Will tries the hardest he can to choke down some breakfast, but between his few hours of sleep and his apprehensiveness of the things to come, he finds it difficult to swallow. He can’t help it. He’s nervous.

One glance across the table at Derek tells him that he’s feeling the same way.

“So, what exactly _is_ this test?” Derek asks once they’ve finished eating and laced on their armor. George is leading them across the field, towards the mountain. April and March have already wished them luck. “Everyone mentions it, but no one’s told us what we actually have to _do._ ”

George sighs. “You know that the flower judges the heart of whoever it is coming to take it?”

“Yeah.”

George nods. “There’s your test.”

Will blinks. “Wait, so, it just judges if we’re good people and if we’re planning to use the flower for a good cause?”

“That’s not so bad,” Derek says, smiling. “I think we’re fairly good people, and there isn’t a better cause than saving an entire kingdom, right?”

George frowns. “That’s not exactly the test. It’s part of it, but...when you approach the flower, you’ll have to lay everything out in front of it. Any secrets you have, any stories you’re not willing to tell...spill them, all of them, until you have nothing left to spill. Then the flower judges you. If you pass, you get the flower. If you fail...” She looks at them like they’re already dead. “We’ll send news back to your kingdom.”

Derek whistles lowly. “Delightful. What do you think, Will?”

But Will’s still focused on the other thing. The thing about having no more secrets. Will’s a pretty reserved person, but he doesn’t have much to hide. It’s not that he’s an open book, exactly, it’s just there’s nothing for him to keep _private._

Except one thing. The one thing he swore to himself he’d never tell one person.

And that one person will be right fucking there when Will’s secret gets out, a witness to Will’s humiliation.

“Will?” Derek asks. “Hello? Dude?”

Will snaps out of it. “Yeah, yeah. Sounds like a party.”

“Well, then,” George says gravely. “Let’s go.”

She leads them to the base of the mountain. There seems to be no clear path up, but George finds one anyway, hopping on footfalls hardly bigger than dinner plates. Will and Derek follow as well as they can without falling.

About a quarter of the way up the mountain, they reach a ledge, jutting out from a wall of stone forming part of the cliff’s face. Inside the stone, there’s a curtain of reeds, and behind that curtain of reeds is -

“Woah,” Derek says. Will doesn’t say anything. His tongue falls limp in his mouth.

The cave is full of flowers. Not full like a library is full of books, but full like the flowers plaster the insides wall-to-wall. They’re _everywhere._ The air is heavy with a sort of honeysuckle smell, and each and every one of the pale purple petals is glimmering slightly, radiating a faint lavender light. The atmosphere of the cave _hums_ with a power more ancient even than that of the pixies’s.

“So we just,” Derek croaks. “Take any of them?”

“Go ahead and pick a random one. Doesn’t matter,” George says. She draws aside the reeds again. “This is where I leave you.”

Will wheels around, finds his voice. “Wait, you aren’t going to stay?”

George smiles wistfully. “I’ve always wanted to see one get picked.”

“You’ve never taken one?” Derek asks.

She shakes her head. “The guards are forbidden to. I could watch you get it, but at the risk of things going wrong, it’s safer for me to go back to the guardhouse.” She shudders. “A little power from these things goes a long way.”

“Yeah,” Will mutters. “Of course.”

George smiles grimly. “Good luck,” she says, one last time, and then she’s gone.

There’s a few moments of silence. And then Will asks, “What now?”

Derek swallows. “I guess we choose one to take.” Will can see his jaw clench.

“Hey,” he says. Derek looks up. “It’s going to be ok.”

“But what if it doesn’t deem us worthy?” Derek asks. “What if we fail? I - “ To Will’s horror, his voice breaks. “I don’t want to _die,_ Will.”

Will doesn’t have to think about it, and he doesn’t while he does what he does next. He reaches out and puts his hand on the back of Derek’s neck. He draws him in close, presses their foreheads together, closes his eyes.

“Just breathe. In...out. In...out.”

Derek’s breaths come out shaky and harsh, until finally, they level out again.

“Will.”

Will opens his eyes.

Derek is so, so _close._

“ _Will,_ ” he says again, and Will isn’t sure if he wants to cry until he can’t cry anymore, or scream until his throat is raw, or _kiss_ the boy in front of him until he dies.

But he can’t do any of those things until the kingdom is saved.

“Come on,” he rasps, forcing himself to let go, forcing himself to break the moment. “Let’s get this dumb flower.”

Derek takes another deep breath. “That one,” he says, pointing to one growing out of the top of a mossy stone.

Will nods.

“Um.” Derek coughs. “So - “

“Let me go first,” Will begs. “ _Please._ ” If he doesn’t go first, he thinks he’ll explode.

Derek looks at him. He looks scared. “Ok.”

Will looks at the ground. “I only have one thing to say, because I only really have one secret to tell. I thought about it all the way up here, and there was nothing else for me to say but this, and I - “ He swallows. “I’m sorry for it, in advance.”

He steels himself and squeezes his eyes shut to make it easier. Once he does this, there’s no going back.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, and his stomach lurches, his heart jumps, but he’s _said_ them, the words are _out._

Derek says nothing. Will doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. He opens his eyes, and looks at him. He _has_ to look at him. He has to know what he thinks. Derek’s staring. His lips are parted. His expression is unreadable.

Will clenches his jaw. His heart kicks into overdrive

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, riding the rush, looking Derek right in the eyes. “I’ve _been_ in love with you for a long time. And I know things could never work. But I had to say it. And now I have. And I love you so _much,_ Derek, I love you so much, it _hurts,_ and I can’t _think,_ and I can’t _breathe,_ and it’s so, so _much,_ but I don’t _care._ Because I love you, and I’m always going to love you.”

Derek doesn’t say anything. Stays silently staring.

Will’s resolve finally cracks. His courage dissipates. He feels _tired._ He looks away. “That was all I had to say.”

“You used to hate me,” Derek says quietly.

Will laughs self-deprecatingly. “Yeah. Guess that changed.”

“Guess it did.”

Will doesn’t even know what’s happening anymore. “Dude, just. Just go. It’s your turn.”

“Right.” Derek coughs. “Well, I don’t love Ford. You know that, but my parents don’t, and I guess that maybe doesn’t count? But I figured I’d say it just in case. I don’t want to marry her, and I know she doesn’t want to marry me, and I think it’s dumb that we have to just because we’re both available and we’re both royal.”

Will nods. He still can’t bring himself to look back at Derek. “Is that all?”

Derek shifts. “No, there’s one more thing.”

It’s quiet.

“Aren’t you going to say it?” Will asks.

“Will,” Derek murmurs. “Look at me?”

Will looks. And Derek’s face is soft, it’s open, and he’s looking at Will in a way Will’s never been looked at before.

“I can’t love Ford,” he says, staring Will head-on. “Because I love you.”

Will feels dizzy. “Is that some kind of joke? ‘Cause that’s a pretty shitty thing to pull, Nurse, I thought you wouldn’t - “

“I’m not joking,” Derek says quickly. “God, Will, I - I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”

This isn’t real. This is another dream. Will’s going to wake up back in the guardhouse on the morning they're supposed to get the flower, and this will all have been another fantasy.

“You are - “ Derek reaches out tentatively, hesitates, starts to draw his arm back, and then cups the side of Will’s face anyway.

“You are the most important thing in life to me,” Derek Nurse whispers, _Prince_ Derek Nurse whispers, and Will feels like he’s floating. “You know how fucking _grateful_ I am that you moved to Andover? That you decided you’d had enough of fishing life and wanted to be something more? The guys are great, but _you_ were the thing that got me to wake up so early in the mornings for training. _You_ were the thing I looked forward to seeing every day, and I’m so glad I met you. Will Poindexter, you are, without a doubt, _the_ _reason I’m living._ ”

Will isn’t sure when he started crying, but his face feels wet. “Derek?” he says.

“What?”

“What did Lardo tell you?”

He grins. “To get my shit together.”

Will laughs, and so does he.

And then the Clytemnestra flower shines the brightest light Will has ever seen in his life. Even when he shuts his eyes, the beams pierce through his lids and make him cringe away, falling to the ground. Derek’s fingers fall away from his face, and Will can’t find them.

“ _Derek!_ ” he yells.

“ _I’m right here._ ” His hand reaches out, touches Will’s shoulder. Will grabs it.

There’s a high wind blowing. The energy of the flower is thrumming throughout the cave. Will thinks the ground might be shaking. He holds tight to Derek’s hand and wonders if this is _it,_ if they’ve _failed -_

And just as suddenly as it started, the light winks out. The wind fades away, and everything is quiet.

Will tentatively opens an eye, blinking away the spots dancing in his vision.

“We’re not dead,” Derek says faintly.

Will turns his head and, just as faintly, says, “No, we’re not.”

“We _passed._ ” Derek grins, and Will grins with him.

He wants to kiss him. He wonders if he should.

He doesn’t. Derek hauls himself to his feet, goes over and cautiously, carefully plucks the flower from the stone.

Nothing happens.

He turns back to Will, flower in hand. “We did it.”

Will stands. “Put the flower down,” he says, but he hardly hears himself say it over the rushing in his ears. Derek does, fixing Will with a charged, almost _hungry_ look in his eyes, and Will strides across the gap, holds the Prince gently by the face, and kisses him, quick and easy.

“ _God,_ ” Derek groans. “We should have done that years ago.”

Will kisses him again, deeper, slower, longer. He pulls back, breathing heavily. “I’m so in love with you.”

Derek smiles, and it’s a private smile, meant for Will and Will alone. “Me too.”

He pulls Will to his body, leans back against the cave’s wall, and kisses him once more.

It’s only been a little over a week, but it feels like years since they’ve been in Andover. They’re greeted by crowds of people, yelling and trying to get a look closer, to see if they can catch a glimpse of the flower. It takes Will and Derek an hour to get through the lower and upper towns and into the palace citadel, what with all the traffic.

When they walk into the throne room, the Queens rush toward Derek, and the boys all swarm Will.

“Dude!” Justin yells. “You were gone for so long. We thought you were _dead!_ ”

“Yeah, well,” Will says, smiling. “I’m not, right?”

“ _Damn right,_ ” Adam says, clapping him on the back. Is he crying? He might be crying. Chris is practically hovering from all the excited jumping up and down he’s doing.

“Will! Did you have fun? What were the pixies like? Was it _romantic?_ ”

Will sees Derek glance over at him from in the middle of hugging his mothers, raise a single eyebrow.

“That’s a good question,” Justin says, smirking slyly. “ _Was_ it romantic?”

"Oh, you know.” Will shrugs. He shares a grin with Derek. “Nothing really went down.”

“So. How are things going with Jack?”

Eric looks up from the pie dough he’s rolling, in preparation for the festival in honor of the Spring Queen’s Revenge being cured. He smiles. “Things with Jack are _fine._ ”

Will grins. “Good to hear.”

“How are things with the Prince?” Eric asks, raising his eyebrows craftily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Will says airily, taking a bite of one of the frosted cookies cooling on the countertop.

“ _William Poindexter, if you touch another thing in this kitchen, so help me God -_ “

At the festival feast, Denice and Gwen approach him.

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you, yet,” Gwen says. She looks better, happy, glowing with health.

“Oh, you don’t have to - “

She hugs him. “ _Thank you._ ”

He smiles, pats her back. “It was no problem.”

“How are things?” he asks once she pulls away. “With you two, I mean.”

Denice smiles. “Things are good. And they wouldn’t be if you and Derek hadn’t gone on that quest. Thank you, Will.”

He nods. “Thank _you._ ”

Denice tilts her head. “What for?”

He shrugs. “You guys supported me when I thought Derek would never love me back.”

“Well, of course we did,” Gwen says offhandedly. “We had the same - “ She pauses. “Wait a _minute._ Are you trying to tell me - “

Will feels his ears turn red, but he smiles and nods.

“ _Oh my God!_ ” Gwen shrieks, and hugs him again.

Denice hugs him, too. “I’m happy for you, Will. I really am.”

“Yeah,” Will says. “Me too.”

Gwen is safe, Caitlin’s dad is safe, the whole _kingdom_ is safe, and Will Poindexter is in love.

He finds Derek in the gardens, like he knew he would. He’s standing underneath a willow tree, and the only reason Will can see him is because he was looking for him in the first place.

“Waiting for someone?”

Derek glances up and smiles. “Waiting for _you._ ”

“I know.” Will follows him underneath the tree, hidden from view beneath the long, trailing leaves.

“I looked for you here earlier, but you weren’t around,” Will says. “What took you so long?”

“I was talking to Shitty. Lardo asked me to say hi to him from her. When I told him that, he started going on and on about how cool she is.”

Will raises an eyebrow. “Lardo and _Shitty?_ ”

“It’s not so unlikely when you think about it.”

“Guess not.”

Derek holds up a hand, lightly and delicately brushes his fingertips over Will’s face, gentle as a breath of spring. Will feels his heart skip a beat.

“Kiss me already,” he says.

Derek kisses him. He’s done it so many times since the cave, but Will still feels a rush every time.

“I got you something,” Derek says quietly. He holds something up in his hand, the fragments of starlight sifting through the leaves of the tree illuminating its form.

A lily. Of course.

Will laughs. “I already kept the last one you gave me,” he says.

Derek shrugs. “Sure. But that one wasn’t this one.”

Will smiles. “Ok.”

“Can I?”

He nods. Derek reaches out and tucks the flower behind Will’s ear.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and Will kisses him again.

Prince Derek Nurse of Andover and Princess Denice Ford of Samwell are married on a sunny day in late July. Their marriage is widely attended by both kingdoms, with a gorgeous outdoor ceremony and lots of decorations. The food is incredible, the entertainment is plentiful, and the celebrations go late into the night. The people view the union as one of the best in the history of either kingdom. A duo of strong, intelligent, good rulers.

The pair play a game of falling in love. At least for the eyes of the public. Behind closed doors, in secret, in the dead of night, is another story. But no one knows about that except the ones who can be trusted. If the Princess spends her days with her handmaiden by her side for every minute of it, then that’s her business.

And if the Prince spends every summer in a small port district in the southeast, a small port district where the captain of his guard just so happens to have a home and a family, then no one really seems to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> check please is actually over i'm literally shaking and crying


End file.
